


letter

by sinfulchihuahua0602



Series: whump advent 2020 [3]
Category: DreamWorks Dragons (Cartoon), How to Train Your Dragon (Movies)
Genre: Captivity, Hiccup Horrendous Haddock III Needs a Hug, Hiccup Horrendous Haddock III Whump, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, M/M, Snoggletog (How to Train Your Dragon), Viggo is Pure Evil
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-09
Updated: 2020-12-09
Packaged: 2021-03-10 09:00:28
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,304
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27967952
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sinfulchihuahua0602/pseuds/sinfulchihuahua0602
Summary: Hiccup gets a surprise visit from Viggo for the holidays.
Relationships: Viggo Grimborn/Hiccup Horrendous Haddock III
Series: whump advent 2020 [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2041774
Comments: 3
Kudos: 23





	letter

**Author's Note:**

> day 7-9: _christmas/holiday decorations_

_My dear Hiccup,_

_I miss you. I’ll be visiting during Snoggletog. I expect the place to be decorated, and I expect you to tell your friends about my visit. Can’t have any interruptions, now can we?_

_-V_

“Hiccup? What is it?”

Hiccup’s face is pale as he stares at the small slip of parchment, signed with Viggo’s signature and written in his elegant handwriting. His wax seal is broken on one end where Hiccup had opened it, and he wishes he’d never had. 

Astrid frowns. “Hiccup,” she repeats firmly. He wordlessly hands her the parchment, staring down at the ground. Astrid is silent for a long moment after her hand drops to her side with the paper. 

“That _bastard,”_ she hisses. Hiccup numbly starts walking towards the crates of Snoggletog decorations, various shields and lights and festive candles. Snoggletog is tomorrow. He can’t waste time not decorating. 

Astrid watches him. He’d been tormented by Viggo for almost a year now, with fleets of Hunter ships surrounding the Edge. They never made any move, but their threat was enough, and they denied the Riders permission to leave the island without being shot at by the ships. 

Viggo had taken special interest in Hiccup as he always had, _visiting_ him on the Edge to hurt him or fuck him or do whatever he wanted for a day, maybe a few, maybe a week, before leaving. He threatened to hurt his friends, threatened to destroy the entire island and the Edge if Hiccup didn’t cooperate. All the Riders were going stir-crazy being locked on the island, and Hiccup didn’t think he could stand this for much longer. Through the year of conditioning, he was already terrified of the man, and could feel himself slipping with every visit that reminded him of how hopeless the situation was. He could only visit his father and Berk when Stoick truly set aside his forced letters saying all was well and wanted to see him, and Viggo kept one of his friends as insurance when that happened. 

Hiccup couldn’t possibly think of a worse Snoggletog. He’s recovering from cracked ribs, cuts and bruises littering his body along with lashes on his back from a whip, and now Viggo is asking him to _decorate._ For his visit. His _unwanted_ visit. After nearly the entire month without any letter from him, Hiccup had hoped he’d be able to spend Snoggletog with his friends. 

He shouldn’t have been so hopeful. 

The first thing he does is write a letter to Stoick on why he can’t come - _recovering from injuries_ (true), _celebrating the holiday on the Edge_ (true) _with his friends_ (not true), _he’s fine_ (not true).

Next is decorating. Hiccup stares at the crates, at the cheery, bright colors inside, the candles and the painted shields. Astrid comes up behind him, putting a hand on his shoulder; he flinches and she takes her hand away with a mumbled apology. 

“I can help you,” she says. “You don’t have to do this alone.”

Hiccup feels oddly numb. “Thank you, Astrid,” he says, flatly and without meaning, and then he picks up a painted shield and some nails, taking a ladder and climbing it to start putting up the decorations. He feels Astrid’s gaze on him, watching in concern, before she slowly picks a decoration up and goes to hang it up. 

Hiccup’s numbness fades as he works. Four shields and one hour in, tears prick at the corner of his eyes. He shoves them down; three candle sets and two hours in, his cracked ribs twinge and flare with pain and he gasps. His hands shake as he keeps working, the hours in the day slowly dying, counting down to when Viggo visits again. 

Four hours in and Hiccup can’t catch his breath; the tears start falling, at first one or two and then all at once. His breath hitches in pain as his ribs flare, the end of it breaking into a half-sob. He drags his breathing under control and forces his voice not to shake, even as pain and despair and hopelessness flood through him. “ _Astrid,”_ he says in a broken tone, looking at her, his hands barely staying still enough to hold on to the ladder. 

Astrid’s eyes snap to him and she gasps quietly. “Hiccup,” she says, walking quickly over to him and catching him as he climbs down the ladder and stumbles, falling into her arms. 

Hiccup hates his weakness. He’s never broken down like this before, as he curls into Astrid’s chest and shakes with the tears, with the pain of his tears, with what’s to come. He’s supposed to be strong, he’s supposed to survive this. 

Yet, he thinks of Viggo, touching him and hurting him, all alone with him in this house decorated with festive candles, on a day that he was supposed to celebrate with his friends and be happy for a few hours, and he can’t. He can’t hold it together, he can’t be strong, he can’t survive this. It’s been almost a year. A whole _year_ of Viggo tormenting him however he’d liked. 

Astrid sits on the floor with Hiccup cradled in her arms as he cries and shakes, and tries not to cry herself. 

-0-0-0-

Hiccup wakes up in the empty house, and the candles near his bed are the first thing he sees, a stark reminder of what today is. 

It’s Snoggletog. Usually, like any other holiday, that’s supposed to fill him with joy, remembering old holidays with Toothless, giving presents to the children of Berk and his friends, seeing everyone else get presents. The year the eggs exploded and Hiccup found the Rookery. 

The candles are near his _bed_ , though. He never decorates his bed. _Viggo_ wants him to decorate his bed. 

Hiccup wishes he didn’t know why. 

His morning routine is done with a cold sort of detachment; get up, eat breakfast, get dressed (it’s a bit cynically that he laughs to himself and asks why he’s getting dressed when Viggo’s only going to undress him, but he’s not quite broken yet, so he pulls as many layers on as possible in a small act of rebellion), and then wait. 

The bright candles are like a mockery of his mood, shining and festive, and he’s standing looking out the window, drinking beer in the living room he decorated when it happens. 

It’s silent, completely quiet and empty, though Hiccup fidgets; his leg bounces, he’s holding the goblet too tightly, his hands shake a little as he holds it. The liquid stirs inside, that’s how he knows - he can’t sit still, and it’s from sheer fear. 

He takes a drink of his beer, swallowing, hoping to be drunk for the time he’s with Viggo, and it’s no sooner than he’s swallowed that he feels hands on his shoulders and a warm body pressed up against him, breath against his neck. “So nice to see you again, my dear Hiccup,” Viggo purrs in his ear, cruel and malicious. 

Hiccup almost screams. He _wants_ to scream, wants to jump, wants to shove Viggo away and brandish his sword at him. 

But Viggo is here, and that means one or more of his friends are in a Hunter camp right now. Hiccup can’t disobey or they’ll get the consequences, and Hiccup will do anything to protect them. 

So, the most he does is freeze in place, hand tightening painfully around the goblet. He forces himself to relax, sinking back into Viggo’s warmth and feeling his arm slip around his waist, drawing a pleased hum from the man as he kisses idly at Hiccup’s throat. Hiccup’s stomach roils with dread and fear and shame; he feels tears prick at the corner of his eyes and he shoves them down. He takes a breath. 

“Hello, Viggo.”


End file.
